


Förälskelse you need, there’s love

by teicakes



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: (BLESS THAT IS A TAG), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bottom Keith (Voltron), Fix-It of Sorts, Furniture Shopping, Gay Disaster Shiro (Voltron), IKEA, M/M, Moving In Together, Semi-Public Sex, Tight Spaces, post s7 divergence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-24
Updated: 2018-12-24
Packaged: 2019-09-25 19:10:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17127101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teicakes/pseuds/teicakes
Summary: In which Shiro and Keith try to furnish Shiro’s new apartment, but it turns out a Galra invasion isn’t the best thing for a Swedish furniture store.Or... Shiro asks Keith to move in with him and they end up fucking in the middle of an Ikea.





	Förälskelse you need, there’s love

**Author's Note:**

  * For [untoldintrovert](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=untoldintrovert).



> Yes. Yes that's it. That's the whole fic.
> 
> A gift for untoldintrovert on tumblr for the Sheith Secret Santa this year, set right after season 7 finishes, and effectively blocks any hopes of s8's endcards ever happening. Hope you like it!

The end of the Galra occupation of Earth led to a lot of things. It led to the paladins of Voltron finally returning home. It led to new friends and old faces reappearing as humanity opened their doors to the galaxy. It led to Keith seeing his parents reunited, even across the divide of time and death. And of course, it led to one inevitable conclusion, something he’d never have predicted in his wildest fever dreams.

He and Shiro were dating.

Maybe it was those long hours together in Black, traveling back to Earth, maybe it was his confession during his fight with the clone, or the hug he’d refused to let Shiro out of when he’d woken up, but someway, _somehow_ it had culminated in a moment after they’d destroyed that robeast, Shiro carrying his waning form out of Black that the topic had slipped.

 _“I love you too,”_ was all Shiro had said, all remaining words reduced to the feeling of his lips pressing against Keith’s forehead. Keith hadn’t noticed anything else around him from then on, only faintly aware of bodies passing and distant voices, until those too faded out, the warmth of Shiro’s the arms the last thing he remembered before waking up in a hospital bed.

Since then they’d started slowly, lingering touches, whispered confessions when Shiro visited him. They kept it under wraps, feeling out where friendship blended into relationship. In part it was to keep his mom from interrogating Shiro six ways from Sunday, or worse, _Kolivan._ But still, it was nice, a warm little flame inside Keith, something that had him waking up smiling every morning.

Like now, splayed out on the couch with Kosmo, sipping coffee and enjoying the chance at a lazing morning that nursing a few bruised ribs justifies. The others had long since left, finishing breakfast and heading out to help the garrison complete repairs, welcome the resistance members, those types of things. It’s just him and Shiro now, sitting across from him in the lounge, a spread of reports and booklets strewn around his saucer like some kind of summoning circle for a filing demon. He likes the look of him like that, serious, deep in thought, completely unaware that Lance had nabbed his croissant on the way out. He lies back down, scritching Kosmo behind the ears.

“Keith, can you help me with an Ikea trip?”

“A what?” Keith sputters, some coffee dribbling down his chin and onto Kosmo’s back before seeping into the couch (much to the space wolf’s dismay). The only noise following his immediate spit take is Kosmo harumphing as he clambers off the couch to shake the worst of hazelnut creamer out of his fur.

Shiro’s a deer in the headlights, staring at Keith like he’d started squawking like a parrot. His coffee cup is halfway to his lips, several papers fisted in his other hand as he watches Keith take several gulps of caffeine-free air.

“A… a trip… to Ikea,” he repeats again, carefully watching Keith’s cup in case he decides to take another spit take. “It was just a thought, we don’t have to, not if you’re not up for it.”

I mean… sure... he’d been out of the med bay for less than a week, he didn’t expect Shiro would be asking him to take up a sword and start charging into battle. Both his mom and the med staff had been pretty dang clear about that. But really _? Shopping? Fricking shopping?_

“You.” Keith repeats. “You want me to go to Ikea? With you?”

“Well… actually, more like take me,” Shiro says, rubbing the back of his neck. “The Atlas isn’t exactly a ship to take anywhere and a lot of the other Garrison-made ones are too small or too slow for the trip and the load. Going in one of the lions would be ideal, but-”

Keith blinks, puzzle pieces landing into place. “You need one of us to pilot for you.”

Shiro nods. “Now that Black gave up her link to save me, I can’t exactly just borrow her for a trip. Plus, it seems a little irresponsible to run off with your lion.”

Keith hums, doing his best to scrub the last few dregs of coffee out of Kosmo’s tail. On the one hand, he’d been hoping for a lazy morning before heading out to stretch his legs in the afternoon. On the other… he _has_ been itching for some proper alone time with Shiro. There’d been a smattering of moments here and there in the past few weeks, but with him being in the med bay and mom wanting to visit dad and all Shiro’s new responsibilities, it made it hard to find more than an hour between the two of them.

Furniture shopping, random as it was, might be the best bet for them to have an uninterrupted afternoon together.

“Okay, I’ll bite,” he says, stretching out on the couch. “It’ll be nice to get out and do something other than debriefing or planning the next phase of the Resistance’s movements. But _Ikea_ ? As a day trip? _Really Shiro_?”

“Well…” Shiro’s fingers drum against the sea of paper on his table. Keith finally noticed there were a few flyers littered in with formal reports. Actually… a lot of them. “Now that we’re finally back on Earth and are moving into the Atlasl, I was thinking it would be nice to do something to make it our own. They… they gave me some larger quarters seeing as I’m captain now, and I’d rather they feel homey than just another Garrison dorm.”

The thought of Shiro in some apartment straight out of a catalogue sent a rush of warmth and a pang of something else through Keith, like hot chocolate with a hint of orange. Shiro deserved something ordinary, something so blissfully human and peaceful after all he’d been through. They both did.

“I’ll do it.”

Shiro’s smile dawns over the rim of his coffee cup, one that’s 95% eyes and just a whisper of lips from behind the porcelain. It’s a smile Keith will never get tired of. “I was hoping you’d be interested in helping.”

“And if I wasn’t? Were you going to move on to asking Hunk or Lance? Or maybe even Allura?”

A frown crosses Shiro’s face for a second, gone just as fast as it appears. “I hadn’t really thought that much about it. I’d always just planned on asking you, but…” he shakes his head, laughing, “It probably wouldn’t be the best idea to bring the Alteans along if we wanted it to be a fast trip. They’d probably take forever when we got down to the knicknacks floor.”

Keith snorts, carefully putting his mug down as Kosmo hops even further from him at the threat of another coffee shower. “Good point. Besides, I think going there with Allura would freak Lance out a bit.”

“Oh? Something there?” Shiro asks, a sparkle of mischief in his eyes.

Keith grins back. “I’ll tell you on the way.”

* * *

As it turns out, worldwide occupation by an alien race means certain things slip through the cracks as humanity tries to survive their new overlords. Yelp reviews for one, or an updated list of open home and furniture stores. Keith wouldn’t say the Galra had it out for the blue and yellow sales giant _per say_ , but he _could_ say he was getting awfully tired of parking Black in a semi-full parking lot to the delight of nearby onlookers, only to realize they were shut down, out of stock, or filled with refugees taking full advantage of several square acres of beds, tables, and chairs.

In the end, it’s the 6th store they try, skipping over North America entirely and flying straight to Sweden, that they manage to find one left untouched, flags flying high, people puttering back and forth in the parking lot with their many expenses.

“ _Finally_ ,” Keith groans. His stomach is gurgling, his shopping stamina already half depleted with the sheer frustrating of parking a half dozen times. “We should have just started here in the first place instead of stopping in on every other one on our way.”

A strong hand claps Keith’s shoulder, the warmth sparking Keith’s batteries up just a few more percent. “I was hoping to spare you and Black the trip, but I guess you’re right. Sorry Keith, lunch is on me?” And the smile Shiro makes as he rubs Keith’s shoulder blades is enough to make it all worth it.

In the end they both manage a sandwich each (the iconic meatballs in too short supply for Keith to grumble about it), wandering around the showroom between bites. Shiro’s already got a cart with a half dozen pillows and a few stuffed animals, because, in his words _“Kosmo deserves them”._ It makes Keith laugh, push a large hippo plush into Shiro’s face and ask if he deserves it too. Shiro caves, tossing in a few small mouse plushes for Allura and mice too for good measure.

They start out in the living room section, Shiro studying couches long and hard.

“You have any idea what you’re looking for?” Keith asks, spread out across an armchair, plush still in hand. “Colour, style, size?”

“I mean… I think getting a couch and a loveseat would be good. Or else a couch and two arm chairs? So that it’s good for guests?” He looks at Keith like a panicking contestant on who wants to be a millionaire, one seconds away from phone a friend. “What do you think?”

Keith lets out a little snort at how Shiro’s lip curls in a hopeful pout. “Doesn’t matter to me, it’s your place, your choice. Two armchairs does sound good though, keeps me from being squished on a couch if there are too many people there, which trust me, there probably will be. Just how big is your room anyway?”

Shiro’s bouncing up and down on a white leather number, testing the support when Keith catches him with that question. “Uh… 800 square feet, give or take?”

If Keith could whistle, he would. “ _That big?_ ”

“It’s not a house,” Shiro says in a voice that suggests he knows _exactly_ how big it is compared to the cabins they’d had aboard the castle ship. “It’s for a commander, so it has a separate bedroom and a small office area. I thought it was too big for just me, but then, well… I figured it was just right. Room for a crowd.”

“You expecting everyone over for dinner every night? Oh _god_ …” Keith jumps off the chair, hairs standing on the back of his neck. “Shiro, _please_ tell me they didn’t give you a kitchen too!”

“... No.” Sulky Shiro makes an appearance as the captain of the Altas slides down the white leather, chin almost disappearing into his chest. “Sam told them not to bother to get me a stove. Just a fridge and a microwave. It’s not like I’m _that_ bad.”

“Then why is one of my last memories of you before you left for Kerberos you setting off the smoke alarm making pancakes?”

“That’s because you were distracting me,” comes Shiro’s voice from his pecs. “You were trying to juggle those bananas and kept bruising them.”

The memory comes surging back from a different time and place, one where Shiro still had black hair and two arms, where things had all felt more complicated and yet so much more simple. Of Shiro with batter smeared across a cheek as he tried to wrestle the final unscathed banana out of Keith’s hands, both of them laughing so hard they hardly realized the first batch was turning a toasty charcoal black. In the end Keith had made banana bread with the pulverized bananas and what was left of the batter, forcing Shiro to solemnly swear off cooking until he was back to keep their ship from going up in smoke.

He can’t help but wonder if Shiro’s improved after all these years, after all, there were so many gaps where they’d been apart. Maybe he can sneak a hotplate into Shiro’s apartment, make breakfast another one of these days, this time snuggling up together on a couch as they tuck in. Looking at him now, sunken into the sofa, he can see future Shiro, tired after a long day of work, wanting nothing more than to sink into something that just absorbs him into comfort. Squashy and comfy is just what he needs.

“I think that sofa’s good,” he smiles. “Is it comfy?”

“Very.”

“Then you should get it. And there’s some matching armchairs over here.” He jabs a finger at two sophisticated square-edged numbers.

“They’re your call,” Shiro prys himself off the cushions. “You’re the one who wants them, do you prefer something reclinable or straight backed?”

“Reclinable,” Keith says, giving Shiro’s jacket a little tug. “Though no matter how straight backed something is, I’m pretty sure I can get it to sit back and relax.”

The look on Shiro’s face as they wander off to pick out coffee tables and lamps is more than worth it.

Shiro’s tastes are an interesting mix of modern and lived-in homey, something that has him wrestling over every second article of furniture over this or that. It’s through Keith’s nudging, his early years of watching renovation shows with his dad and later passing interests in those same old shows still running that has him knowing how to pick out a colour scheme and go for it. Black, white, and ash grey woods, monochromatic, but still warm from the wood, making it easy for Shiro to stop worrying over if the red in one lamp matches the blue of a blanket. It’s nice how much Shiro looks to him for his opinions on these things, the look of relief on his face when Keith proposes the colour scheme enough to make him brave enough to shoulder Shiro’s side and walk with him towards kitchen wares with a finger in his belt loop.

They find little there, not that Shiro really needs much. Or doesn’t want much.

“C’mon Keith,” he huffs, holding up a bright green ladle shaped like a Brachiosaurus, “it’s so cute! And it even stands on his own!”

“And just when exactly are you going to need it?” Keith asks, eyebrow raising slowly, glancing down into Shiro’s cart where’s there’s a collection of novelty shaped kitchen tools expanding rapidly. There’s at least three fruit shaped fruit slicers, meaning he’s got work to do. “I thought you don’t have a stove. When are you going to make soup?”

“In the microwave?”

“In a big pot?” He laughs, taking out some of the more ridiculous gadgets and putting them back. “I know it’s cute, but you can’t just get everything here with an interesting design. Just a few choice knives and other tools are all you need, not three drawers of unitaskers.” He waves a strawberry huller as he plops it back on the table. “If you don’t want to do it with a knife, I can teach you how with a straw.”

“Really?” And the look on Shiro’s face is so telling of the fact he’s never fallen down the lifehack hole on Youtube.

“Really,” Keith smiles. “We’ll work on it, and see what else Hunk can teach you too. Who knows? Maybe next year you’ll be making pot roasts and lasagna for everyone without me watching over your shoulder.”

“Not possible. How am I supposed to cook without you distracting me after all?”

Keith shoves him, a push that lets him tickle Shiro’s ribs with his elbow as the other man breaks down into snickers.

“I’m not cooking without you Keith. Unless it's breakfast. That’s different.”

“Then I’d better be rewarded for all that helping,” Keith grins, leaning more into Shiro.

“Oh, you will,” Shiro grins back, finger booping Keith’s nose. “Starting with this little guy here.” And the ladlesaurus is placed back in the cart, bright green body standing out against the cream pillows. Keith rolls his eyes, but he can’t deny it will look cute on a shelf in Shiro’s kitchen. If there wasn’t one, well, he’d have to buy one for him. A small one, for the kitchen menagerie. Maybe he could find something in each of their colours, a little collection of their found family, or maybe just… Keith closes his eyes shut for a second as he takes hold of the cart. Maybe a collection for just the two of them.

It’s not too much of a stretch, there’s no denying that’s where they’ll likely end up. But they’re easing into things, wading in the shallows, feeling out what makes all of this different from the years they’ve known each other as best friends, pining from the sidelines until they finally both realized what had been so obvious to everyone else.

For now though, Keith’s happy that Shiro’s just listening to his input on his apartment.

They breeze through the office section, making quick work of picking out a simple desk and chair combo Shiro likes and a bookcase to boot. Keith _does_ raise an eyebrow as Shiro jots down the serial number for a deep grey bean bag, but Shiro’s already walking towards the filing cabinets, his only explanation being “it’ll hide Kosmo’s fur”.

“So you’re getting my wolf a chair for your place?”

“Of course,” Shiro says, opening the drawers of several cabinets to peer inside. “He’ll want to be around you, and I want him to be comfortable. Plus… if the couch is white…”

“Point taken. You remember he drools, right?”

“It’s why all the fabric is wipeable.” Shiro pauses for a second, staring off at some distant tag ten feet in front of him. “You think we should get him a proper dog bed?”

Keith props himself on the cabinet. It’s a bit of an odd question, but one Keith appreciates. Shiro wants him to spend time with him at his place, enough that he’s thinking about the extra things he might need to keep Keith longer. “Dunno. He’s pretty big Shiro, I don’t know if they’ll carry anything his size here.”

“You want to check and I’ll meet you with the beds?”

“And leave you to fend for yourself?”

Shiro leans up, planting a gentle kiss on the teasing smile decorating Keith’s face. It’s chaste, a kiss for being out in public, but even so, it makes the colour rise in Keith’s cheeks.

“I’m a big boy, I think I can handle myself. See you in ten?”

Keith nods slowly, fingers creeping up to touch the faint warmth of Shiro still lingering there. He watches Shiro’s back as it makes it’s way over to the towels and bathroom supplies.

It’s their first kiss in public. The first one where he feels no need to look over his shoulder to see if Lance is reacting to it from behind a corner, or his mother watching them both like a hawk from the shadows. Maybe it’s the fact they’re in a foreign country right now, far away from friends and family that has Shiro feeling this brave. Maybe it's whatever feeling motivated that dog bed question, or whatever prompted him to bring Keith on this shopping trip in the first place.

Whatever it is, Keith hopes it happens again.

Somehow he ends up standing in front of the pet section staring at the selection of beds when the haze of the kiss fades. He was right of course, Ikea isn’t the place to get dog beds for a wolf twice the size of a St. Bernard, but he still grabs Kosmo a few toys: some balls, some squeakers, a few rope tugs all the same. While he’s at it, he eyes the collars and leashes. They’re on Earth now. There’s a decent chance some time down the line someone will ask him where Kosmo’s tags are.

There’s also a chance he’ll have to leash him at some point.

Keith grabs the heaviest duty harness and leash he can find and hurries back through the showrooms, knowing full well there’s a 50% chance Kosmo will drag someone across the garrison lawn chasing a squirrel. Or up a tree. Way, _way_ up a tree.

_Well, he’ll have to learn to heel at some point._

He finds Shiro right where he expected him, standing in a sea of beds and mattresses. His boyfriend has three pages of duvet catalogues on a bed, four packs of slightly unwrapped sheets, and a crease in his forehead.

“How’s it going?” Keith asks, settling down beside him and picking up one of the packs. “Trouble in paradise?”

Shiro just bobs his head, pen between his teeth as he continues to stare at the catalogue pages. Leaning over, Keith can see there’s words scrawled beside different listings, some circled, some scribbled out. One plain black and grey duvet has the words “NO NO NO” scribbled all over it.

Keith elbows him playfully, chin coming to rest on Shiro’s shoulder. “What did that one ever do to you?”

Shiro sighs, leaning back to let Keith burrow closer against his neck. “Looks too much like my old one from back before the Kerberos mission. I just…” his lip works its way between his teeth, “I want this place to be a fresh start. And I want it to be something I chose, not something that’s garrison issued,. Something that feels like _home,_ y’know? Plus, I don’t want it to be scratchy.”

“Ah…” Keith looks at the sheets in understanding. “These ones not cut it?”

“That one isn’t bad.” Shiro points to the deep red set. “But it doesn’t really go with the duvets I had in mind.”

“Well, we can always go to a linens store another time. Just because we’re here doesn’t mean we have to buy them.”

Shiro blinks, looking at Keith like a baby who’s just discovered his toes for the first time. “That’s…. That’s a good point.”

“Aren’t you glad you brought me?”

“Immensely.”

“Good,” Keith says, giving Shiro’s nose a poke for good measure. He watches as it and the corners of Shiro’s eyes crinkle as he laughs. It’s a good feeling, one that has the corners of his own mouth drawing up as he lets out a little laugh of his own. Shiro’s hand comes up, tangling in his hair as he presses Keith’s face into his chest, mussing up the back and leaving them both gasping with giggles.

“We’ll start easy,” Keith says, sitting back up. “Did you pick out a frame or a mattress yet?

Shiro’s face falls. “No… I have ideas for the frame, but the mattress…”

“It’s okay,” Keith soothes. “We’ve got time, how hard can it be?”

* * *

His current self was heavily regretting what one hour ago Keith had said. Picking out a frame was easy enough, Shiro had a list of five he was interested in, and based on what else was going in his bedroom (and one executive veto from Keith) they settled on a queen with a padded headboard. The mattress though…

“Are you sure this one isn’t too squishy?” Shiro asks, lying two mattresses over from Keith with an expression Keith hasn’t seen on it since Shiro’s lieutenant exams.

“Which one is it?”

“The Foldøy.”

“Wasn’t that the one you liked?” Keith is starfished out on his own mattress, a firm spring one, trying to ignore how his shopping patience is eeking towards zero. He loves Shiro, but _cripes_ this was taking too long. It would be all well and good if they were moving and _choosing_ things, but Shiro’d entered a stalemate a half hour ago that Keith hadn’t been able to break him out of.

“Yeah, but now I think it’s too squishy. What if it gets so squishy it's hard to move and get out of?”

“I don’t think that’s how beds work Shiro.”

“But what if we take it all the way home before realizing it isn’t the right fit?”

“Then we return it. Or pick a different one. What was that other one?”

Shiro jerks a thumb at the bed between them. “That one. The boxspring with the pillowtop.”

“Meet you there?” Keith groans, trying to find the will to get up. Shiro echoes the sentiment, the two of them stumbling up slowly only to flop down on the bed together, knees hooked over opposite ends as they stare up at maze of ducting and lights above them. Keith’s hands find their way onto his stomach, thumbs and fingers twiddling and fidgeting as he waits for Shiro to speak again, say something about the mattress that will reboot this whole process for the twentieth time.

“So?” he asks after a pregnant pause. “Thoughts?”

Shiro hums beside him. It reminds Keith of the fan on his old beat-up laptop, the noise it made as he pushed it to play video games ten years too recent for it’s graphics card to handle, all stress and on the verge of giving out. “I don’t know. It’s still soft… but has some more support. But the pillowtop means it’ll wear unevenly and flipping isn’t as easy. Plus…” he wiggles beside Keith, jostling him from where he’s staring at Shiro’s shopping list and the remaining things they’ve left to target. “Doesn’t it bug you that you can feel shaking?”

“Only when you’re squirming on it like a caterpillar at a rave. Do you like it more than the other one or not?” He’s hoping the ice cream machine by the checkouts is up and running. A little sugar buzz is just what he needs after this day of shopping. Maybe he’d talk Shiro into swinging up to the caf again to get another sandwich too.

He’s treated to nothing but silence, a stark contrast to Shiro for the rest of this trip. Keith rolls over to find himself face to face with Shiro, jaw locked and eyes set dead on his face with a look of rising self-doubt.

“I think… maybe… but it depends. Do you like it?”

Keith drops the list by his side, propping a cheek up on his palm. “It’s not bad. For not being a model from a specialty store it’s pretty good actually.” At Shiro’s continued pout he carries on. “It’s fine Shiro. _Really_. It’s just a mattress, you can always return it and get something you like more. No need to keep doubting yourself.”

The line between Shiro’s brows sharpens. “But do _you_ like it?”

“ _Shiro_ ,” Keith tries to suppress a tired sigh. They’ve been back and forth on this for ages now. He’s already exerted enough choice over Shiro’s furniture as is, his boyfriend could stand to stop waffling so much over this whole thing like it was a matter of life and death. “Its _your_ bed. It doesn’t matter what I think about it, you’re the one who’s going to be sleeping on it. Just-”

“What if it’s not?”

Keith blinks. “What?”

“What if I’m not the only one sleeping in it,” Shiro says, eyes wide and ernest. “What if I want it to be yours too?”

Yours too.

_Yours too._

His brain short circuits and all he can hear are the last two words echoing through his empty skull. Shiro’s bed. _His bed._ The two of them sleeping together, night after night. Either pressed against each other or with the barest of touches, pinkies brushing together as they spread out over the mattress. The thought makes Keith’s cheeks go red. It’s a dream come true, something he’d hoped for, but far, far down the line, and here Shiro was, suggesting it bare weeks into their relationship. He’d thought they’d be taking it slow, easing their way into things as they worked out what changed between being best friends and lovers. He’d thought Shiro felt the same, but Shiro...

Shiro _wanted_ … Shiro was asking him…

Keith gapes at his boyfriend like a fish out of water, struggling to breathe let alone think, mind spinning and spinning like he’s stuck on a carnival ride. Shiro’s looking at him so calmly, as if he’d just suggested they make another cup of coffee and not the _idea of moving in together_ . Except… _oh god…_ Keith knows his mouth is hanging open, but that’s secondary to the landslide of revelation bowling him over. _This felt_ **_natural_ ** _to Shiro_ . _This was the step he felt like they were at, this was what_ **_he_ ** _wanted too._

A flicker of nerves shoots across Shiro’s face, one of his hand coming to push away the hairs clinging to Keith’s mute face. “Keith…” he chuckles nervously, “hey… is everything alright? I didn’t mean to scare you…”

“That’s… you’ve been…” Keith tries, but it feels like he’s trying to speak in front of millions instead of the man he’s loved for years. “You… you want me to move in with you?”

Shiro’s brow wrinkles with a frown. “Of course. Why wouldn’t I?”

“I… I don’t know… I guess I thought it would take more time? That we still had to figure out our feelings for each other?” He’s getting off the tilt-a-whirl now, no longer dazed and confused but still very much turned around. “Don’t you think it’s a little soon?”

Shiro’s lips purse, eyes looking off towards the display of closet organizers. “Maybe? But then again we’ve known each other for years now? We spent a lot of time together coming back from deep space, and I don’t know… I guess I thought based on how you kept leaping in there to save me your feelings were pretty solid?”

He doesn’t miss the little teasing edge to Shiro’s smile there, disoriented as he is. With the steadying of his breathing comes the steadying of his thoughts, and with them…

Keith groans, slapping a palm to his forehead. “ _Oh my god_. This whole shopping trip… you wanted me to come along because you wanted us to pick things out together?”

Shiro blinks and it's the biggest slap of _‘duh’_ Keith’s ever been hit with. “Well… _yeah_ . I want it to feel like your home too Keith,” and _god_ , the way he says it has Keith melting like butter on hot biscuits. Shiro’s looking at him like he’s just going to add a healthy serving of honey on top of these feelings too, until he’s not. A line appears in his forehead, hand coming to his neck in Shiro’s patented rub of sheepishness. “But based on your reaction right now, I probably should have been more up front with you about it. I just wasn’t sure… well…  if you’d want to do that.” Shiro tucks his bottom lip under his teeth. “ I was nervous. I guess I figured we could wade into it slowly, see how you liked staying the night here and there and let you get used to the idea before springing it outright. If you don’t w-”

“ _Takashi Shirogane_ ,” Keith huffs, grabbing a fistful of Shiro’s t-shirt and pulling him face to face before he can go any further. “Where the _hell_ did you get the idea I wouldn’t want to move in with you?”

“W-well…” Shiro stammers, and Keith can see every eyelash, every beautiful millimeter on his freshly licked lips. “Lance said-”

“Screw Lance,” Keith growls, bringing his face closer to Shiro’s until his entire world is filled with the sight of Shiro’s wide, wonder filled eyes clinging onto his every motion. “You want to know what I really think?” There’s a dangerous twinkle there in his eyes, a spark is rapidly spreading inside his chest, fire coursing through his veins with every moment, every millisecond of their faces so close together he can feel the heat radiating off of Shiro’s.

“Ye-” is all he lets Shiro get out before he’s cut off by Keith’s lips swallowing his own. All of that fire, all of that energy coursing through him right now, is flowing through him, into his mouth, into his tongue as he deepens his kiss with Shiro. He can taste the cucumber and salmon on his tongue, the muted tang of iced coffee, and more. It’s Shiro and he wants every bit of it, every last motion, every last spark of heat from his body.

Caught off guard Shiro’s finally responding now, pressing closer against Keith, hands tangling in his hair and the hem around his hips as they pull together. He feels Shiro’s hand dip beneath his shirt, fingers running up his spine and over his bare skin. It sends a shudder of fresh sensation through Keith, one that stokes a deeper hunger in his bones, one making him tug Shiro closer and palm a handful of the sweet curve of his backside. He’s hungry… hungrier for Shiro than he’s ever been.

He reaches between them, palming the bulge in Shiro’s pants and earning a soft, moaning _‘fuck’_ as Shiro bucks back in response. Strong hands are on his hips now, kneading the curve of his own ass, stretching and squashing his cheeks together in time with Shiro’s fevered kissing. _Shit._ They were working themselves up so fast, basically ready to _christen_ their new mattress right then and there. Keith feels his own pants growing tight, can feel the shaft of Shiro’s erection pushing against his hips, taste the change in Shiro’s sweat as he licks long stripes up his neck and bites down to leave dark marks of claim.

There’s the noise of someone clearing their throat and Shiro pulls away for just long enough for a disapproving shopper to give them a glare of shame and wave their kids past the _‘hormone-overrun boys’._ Keith feels a stab of guilt, but it’s nowhere near enough to make him release his hold on Shiro, not until the other man takes his hands off him himself, ears and neck sunburnt with embarrassment.

“I… I guess we can start this up again later?” Shiro’s face is bright red.

“Later meaning now, _right?_ You don’t just ask someone that and ask them to cool it until we’re back home.” Blood is still coursing through Keith. Shiro’s lips are wet and pink from kissing, he can see the start of a mark forming on his neck. _Damn, it’s hot._

“Keith… we’re in the middle of a store!”

“And?” He shifts a little bit, just enough for Shiro to take notice of the beginnings of a campsite in Keith’s pants. There’s no missing the little swipe of Shiro’s tongue across his lips, or the bob of his adam’s apple as he swallows. Keith doesn’t even have to look south to know it, _Shiro’s turned on_ , just as much as he is.

“And…” Shiro swallows thickly, “there are rules…”

Keith leans forwards, hand on Shiro’s leg. Shiro’s sharp inhale of breath isn’t missed at all. Slowly, eyes veiled by lashes, he brings his face right beside Shiro’s, so close he can feel the hairs tickle his cheeks as he whispers in the other man’s ear.

“There’s also 300,000 square feet to hide from them. Don’t tell me you’re afraid of a little danger now, _Takashi…_ ”

There’s a jolt that shakes Shiro’s entire body at that name, a switch being flipped as Keith’s lips brush the the shell of his ear.

“Ten minutes,” he growls, taking Keith’s hand and pulling him off the bed. “Ten minutes before they start wondering why our cart’s abandoned. Think you can take me in time?”

Keith grins. “I’m up for the challenge.”

They run, papers left strewn over the mattresses, pillows abandoned in their cart. There has to be someplace nearby, something quiet…

“Bathroom?” Keith hisses, trying to spot a sign.

“No… the stall doors are too high, someone’s going to see something. Warehouse?”

“Too far… _crap!_ That means all those hanging curtains and rugs are out too.” Keith swivels around, looking for someplace, _any place_. He’s three seconds away from jumping Shiro’s bones right here and now. If Shiro’s given him a key he’d probably already be climbing him like a tree.

“ _Here!”_ A hand grabs Keith’s waist and he’s dragged towards a PAX wardrobe. There’s a clatter as Shiro kicks the single bottom shelf out of the way, a grunt as he wrenches the display clothes to the side, and in a second Keith’s pressed up against them and thrown into darkness.

It’s tight in there, barely enough space to move, let alone turn around to look Shiro in the face. The only light is the pale glow of Shiro’s arm, bouncing off the walls and onto his skin that feels even hotter now. He wants to shuck of his jacket, strip down to nothing, but Shiro stops him. He can feel the older man’s hands on his hips, feel the press of his body into Keith’s back, feel the…

_Oh…_

_Oh yes._

Keith closes his eyes and lets out a little hum at the feeling of Shiro’s dick rutting up against his ass. It’s getting harder by the second, little grunts and groans escaping him as he works himself up against Keith. He’s only too ready to join Shiro, hands delving into his own pants to stroke his aching cock. It springs out, heavy and hot against his belly, already dripping with arousal. Shiro bucks forwards, hands moving to strip Keith of his pants and he’s shoved forwards into the wall of the wardrobe, cock between his hand and a hard place. Keith lets out a little whine, hand beginning to move at last, and relief starts filling his veins as he feels air on his bare ass.

“ _God_ baby…” Shiro whispers, “If I’d have known this would be how you’d react I would have asked you weeks ago, would have asked you the second you were out of the hospital.”

“You should have,” he groans, lazily pumping his cock and letting the head rub against the cool wood. “I would have jumped you right then and there, forget who was around.” Keith hears the pop of a cap and feels something cold and slick on his crack. Shiro’s breath ghosts over the skin of his neck and he lets out another moan. “Seems like you were expecting it though…”

“Nope… just lucky.” Shiro noses his way into Keith’s hair, giving him no choice but to bare his neck to let Shiro settle in. He can feel the heat of every word as Shiro talks. “Aloe Vera. Had some in my jacket and it’s better than nothing, so-”

A fingertip presses against Keith’s hole and he lets out a squeak at the intrusion. There’s the initial resistance, the _jolt_ across his body, and then it’s sinking in, sliding into his depths like its where it belongs. He wiggles his hips, grinding back on Shiro’s hand, looking for more.

“Like that, don’t you baby?” Shiro’s words are dark and aroused on Keith’s shoulder, teeth nipping along it’s breadth. He feels his ass hit knuckle, feels Shiro’s finger press against _that spot_ and he’s moaning all over again, lost to the feelings at his neck and hole.

Shiro chuckles, other hand coming to slide up beneath Keith’s shirt and tweak at his chest. “You do know we’re in hiding though, don’t you?” Finger and thumb pinch Keith’s nipple and he bucks against his boyfriend. He groans again, higher, more desperate. Shiro nips at his neck, teeth catching with an edge of danger. “Can’t have us being found out from your sweet sounds now, can we?”

Inside himself Keith can feel Shiro’s finger moving, stroking his walls. He swallows down another sound, focusing instead on the feeling of a second finger stroking up and down his crack and coating itself in lube. He sucks in a breath as it too pushes against his hole, opening him up as his entrance is stretched to accommodate. The sweet burn of it pushing inside is almost more than he can contain, another noise threatening to make it’s way out of his throat.

“Hold it in baby,” Shiro coaxes, kissing up the line of his jaw. “Almost there… you’re doing so well.”

His finger slides in beside its brother, scissoring him open now, the delicious press of nails against his sensitive walls. Keith arches back, struggling to contain his voice. He wants more, wants Shiro to open him completely, split him open with his cock and drive him to release. His hips buck, pushing Shiro against the opposite wall and making the hangers around them clack.

“ _Shhh,”_ Shiro urges, fingers pumping in and out now. Outside he can hear the sounds of footsteps and squeak-wheeled carts, boisterous children and adults alike. “Can’t have people finding you here, can we?” Shiro’s voice is deep and husky in his ear, cock hard and straining against Keith’s hip. “Imagine their faces if they saw you like this, spread open and begging for my cock.”

Keith bites into the blanket hanging in front of him, willing himself to stop reacting to the feeling of it rubbing against his bare ass. This is turning them both on, more than they can admit. It’ll only be a matter of time until one of them cracks. Desperate, he wiggles his hips, trying to feed more fingers inside himself as he squeezes his cock. He’s already close, dangerously so, but he’s not coming, not yet. Not until Shiro’s inside him for real.

“Stop stalling!” His voice is breathier than he’d like, muffled by fabric and need. “Just… do it already!”

Shiro stalls for a second, fingers halfway out and hooked inside him. “You sure? You’re awfully tight Keith.”

Keith rolls his eyes, grinding back against Shiro and earning a well-deserved grunt of pleasure as Shiro’s dick is squeezed between his thighs. “As if that’s a problem for you.” The breath against his neck is shallow. It spurs him on. “I bet you’re just as desperate as me… If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you’d be ready to blow.”

Shiro’s nails rake across Keith’s chest at those words. He’s hugged right against him, fingers yanked out of him unceremoniously and replaced the feeling of hot, straining fabric against his crack. _Fuck…. That’s what he wants, what he_ **_needs_ ** _._ Keith rocks back, letting his full weight trap Shiro against the closet walls and his ass and lets out a wanton moan of appreciation.

“Someone’s ready,” he teases, fingers snaking back to hold Shiro’s hips to his and grind against him. “Why don’t we see who’s really the loudest here?” He paws blindly at Shiro’s button, pinching the tip of his own dick at the thought of what was soon to come.

“Is that a challenge?” and the tone of Shiro’s voice is richer than mousse, darker than coffee. “We’re not even moved in yet and you’re acting like a newlywed.” Keith feels fingers back at his hole, the clinking of Shiro’s belt harmonizing with the slick sounds coming from his ass. He readies himself, leaning back even more into Shiro, head tilting up to kiss at his jaw.

“ _Fuck me_ ,” he hisses, hand squeezing the shape of Shiro’s dick. “Fuck me and remind me I’m yours. Show me just how much you want to move into- **_in..._** with me…”

Shiro chuffs into his hair. His hands grab Keith’s waist, just as he hears the rustle of Shiro’s jeans falling to his knees. There’s nothing between Keith’s rear and his dick anymore, nothing but a few millimeters of air, and those too are bridged in seconds. Shiro’s mouth comes down around Keith’s face, kissing him hungrily as his hands spread Keith’s hole and ease himself towards it, pressing against it, _pressing inside…_

 _“Yess….”_ Keith moans into his mouth. He can feel the fat head of Shiro’s cock, practically _see_ it pressed against his ass, hard and flushed and _perfect_ . “Do it. _Do it!”_ He rocks back, letting it stretch at his sphincter and making him open for a second before pulling back, denying it of the tight heat inside himself. He keeps moving, letting the tip feel a little more of him every time, wetting it just on the edge of tolerable, stirring Shiro up to a fever pitch. He can hear him growl in his ear, feel the hands around his torso knot in his jacket. He pushes back yet again, letting almost the entire head inside, and finally, Shiro snaps.

His hips are pulled so tightly he can feel the bruises forming already, feel his spine jolt as Shiro jerks himself forwards and pushes, _pushes_ deep into Keith, going and going and going for eternity. He’s so big, spreading Keith’s insides wide and pushing the air from his lungs, a silent breathless cry escaping him as Shiro seats himself all the way. Deliciously fast, maddenly slow, a pace he can’t fully adjust to, not until Shiro’s hips press against his ass and Keith’s gasping for air, head spinning with the feeling of cock inside him.

“You asked for it,” Shiro purrs, holding Keith’s hips still as he tries to move to accommodate the sudden fullness inside himself. Shiro’s shaft is hot, Keith’s walls squeezing against it, as if it were a dream he was trying to convince himself was real. _God_ , he could be filled with it for ages, feel that heat inside himself, as steady and solid as Shiro’s presence in his life.

And he was going to milk it for all it was worth.

When Shiro moves, its with purpose, fast deep strokes inside Keith that has his guts churning, dick slapping against his stomach as he’s jerked back and forth in the tight space. There’s barely enough room for Shiro to pull out completely, and Keith finds himself with his arms planted against the opposite wall, ass back, forcing Shiro to stay inside him, never pull out more than halfway. There’s barely any relief for his prostate, Shiro’s cock sparking up against it with every movement, riling him up even more than he already is. He’s long since given up on the thought of edging himself and waiting for Shiro to come, forgotten to try and tease him to climax. All he cares about now is the feeling of Shiro’s cock inside him and the filthy praises in his ear.

“Love you… baby… Want you to be mine forever… Get to go to sleep beside you… wake up together… fall asleep after fucking you right.” Shiro grunts, arms wrapped around Keith, hands running up and long his chest and shoulders.

 _“Yes…._ ” he wheezes, “ _please… please Shiro. I want it! Want you!_ ” He can feel the heat inside him rising, feel Shiro’s pace pick up a notch as he works himself up faster.

“God… you’re so tight baby… so good…” Lips latch onto Keith’s collar and suck, skin drawn into Shiro’s mouth and toyed with with teeth and tongue. It’s too much. He can feel himself squeezing around Shiro, milking his cock as breathy little moans leave him. He’s close… _so so close… on the brink of coming, but…_

“Shhh…” Shiro coaxes, lips moving higher, teasing even more sensitive skin below his ears. “We’re so close… it’d be a shame to be found out now.” He fucks forward, grinding Keith up against the wall and another whine escapes the younger man. “Just a little longer… we’ll both make it baby, hang in there…”

He’s fucking hard and deep, stirring up Keith’s insides and making his brain ooze out his ears like putty on hot cement. “I don’t…. Don’t know…” Keith gasps, eyes squeezed shut as his entire body is tuned to the frequency of Shiro’s dick inside him. “I can’t… it’s so-” but his words are cut off, replaced with fingers in his mouth as Shiro’s teeth leave his neck.

“You _can_ ,” Shiro urges, and the power, the _command_ in that voice has Keith’s hips stuttering backwards prostate first into Shiro’s cock. “You _will_ , and then tomorrow, when we’re all moved in, I’m going to get to hear you for real.”

“Fo-” Keith moans, eyelids fluttering as Shiro’s fingers swirl around his tongue. _For real… like this was nothing… like this was only the beginning of everything_. He could see it now, picture him and Shiro in their apartment, Shiro claiming him over every tabletop, every surface, claiming him as much as they claimed their space. The sweet satisfaction that would come with every look at every item they’d bought today, knowing they’d christened each and every one of them with their passion.

Keith comes on the thought of Shiro pounding him across the dining room table, a scream that dies in his throat behind fingers and lips and sloppy kisses. His orgasm leaves him in an explosion, splattering over his shirt and the wall, drawn out for eons as Shiro works himself to climax inside him. It takes four more thrusts for him, hips finally stuttering to a stop as hot cum rushes into Keith’s depths, Keith’s name a dying groan against his own lips. Time stands still as they finish, locked together in release in the tiny space they’ve claimed as their own.

Slowly Keith comes down from it, the all-too familiar feeling of loose legs and droopy eyelids. He’s boneless, well fucked and sated, ready for a nap before round two. Shiro’s much the same, entering his sappy, post-coital bliss as he gently kisses over the half dozen hickies he’s left on Keith’s neck.

“We should…” Keith groans, moving the last thing he wants to do. “Cart.”

“Yeah…” Shiro sighs, though he refuses to pull out, even as he reaches down to help scrub the worse of Keith’s mess off the wall and his clothes. “That was amazing… you think-”

“Think we can get one of these?” Keith snickers. “Just for fucks like this? Are you sure you wouldn’t prefer a little more danger, admiral Shirogane?” He wiggles his hips back, Shiro’s softening cock starting to slip out with some of his cum. “Wouldn’t you rather do it where we can be caught? The showers maybe? Or how about that broom closet right off the bridge?”

He doesn’t even need to turn around to know the look on Shiro’s face right now.

“M-maybe…” Shiro says, shame finally returning now that blood is no longer concentrated at his dick. Not that that’s going to keep them from trying, especially not Keith.

“Well,” Keith shrugs, tugging up his pants and patting down his clothes in the dark. “We have to get home for that first.”

“Right.” He can hear the sounds of rustling and zipping as Shiro tucks his dick away. “I’ll go first, then you follow in a few seconds?”

Keith hums, closing his eyes as he braces for the sudden shock of showroom light as Shiro swings open the closet door and steps out. His heart is still pounding in his chest, head still swimming.

He was moving in with Shiro. It was happening.

And he was going to make sure, without a doubt, they were getting the sturdiest fucking mattress Ikea had.

**Author's Note:**

> If you think I'll ever write a fluffy fic without throwing some self indulgent sex and corny banter you're horribly terribly mistaken. Also, I hope y'all appreciate that pun because i managed to fit the swedish word for infatuation into a mastercard type title slogan and I'm damn proud of myself for it C:
> 
> Anywho, Beth, I hope you enjoyed and to anyone else reading this Merry Holidays and Happy New Years!


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